Through Gypsy Eyes by Killarney Sheffield Page B

adore you.”
    “Every?” she breathed. Her throat constricted and her mouth went dry. “How many did you invite?”
    “Only six.”
    Only six? Dear Lord, he might as well have invited ten, or twelve, or even twenty. One man at a time I can handle, but six? This will be a disaster.
    Giving her a little tug he led her toward the voices. As they stepped into the room the conversation hushed. She lifted her chin, forcing a bright smile to her lips.
    “Gentlemen, so glad you could all join me tonight. May I introduce our hostess, Miss Delilah Daysland. Miss Daysland, I would like to introduce Lord Deerfoot, Lord White, Sir Micheal Rutherford, Sir Augustus March, Mister Charles Knight, and Mister Devon Carhurst.”
    Delilah stiffened at Baron March’s introduction. How did the obnoxious man finagle an invite? With effort she kept her false smile in place, nodding as each one kissed the back of her hand in greeting. “Gentlemen, I am pleased to meet you
.” I suppose there is no time like the present to put my plan in motion.
With deliberate carelessness she stumbled and tripped, knocking over the end table she knew held a crystal decanter of brandy. It toppled to the floor with a resounding crash. “Oh dear, so clumsy of me. Happens all the time I am afraid.”
    The room was so quiet she could hear the mantle clock tick before the earl cleared his throat. “I believe dinner awaits us.” He took her arm in an iron grip, propelled her to the dining room, and seated her.
    She remained silent as the courses were served and the conversation began to flow. Each guest it seemed went out of his way to include her, but her inability to distinguish to whom she was speaking and her overall frustration at being put on display kept her answers brief and curt.
    “Miss Daysland, it was a tragedy to hear of your dear father’s death.”
    Forcing a small smile to her lips, she turned her head in the direction of the speaker. “Thank you, Lord … ”
Good God, who is it seated to my left?
Grasping at straws she tossed out a name. “Deerfoot.”
    The gentleman in question cleared his throat. “Sir Rutherford, Miss Daysland.”
    Her cheeks heated at her blunder. “So sorry, sir, please forgive my mistake.”
    Conversation stilled. The only sound for a few moments was the delicate clink of silverware against china. She shifted in her chair.
Will this torture never end?
    At last the earl spoke up. “Lord White, I hear you have made quite a name for yourself in the quest for alternative hothouse growing methods.”
    “Quite, I am afraid. You see I did not intend … ”
    Delilah tuned out the uninteresting conversation as the all too familiar twinge started in her temples. At least a headache would allow her to plead illness and retire to her bedchamber. No man here would want a clumsy and ill wife. Though she doubted the earl would let her slip away until at least the meal was dispatched and the men retired for cigars and port in the study.
    “Miss Daysland?”
    Her attention returned to the dinner conversation. “I beg your pardon?” A gentleman responded, which one she couldn’t say.
    “I was just saying no one has seen you in years. I wondered perhaps if you have been on a long tour of Europe?”
    “No.” She frowned in his general vicinity. “I am afraid seeing Europe’s many sights would be quite lost on me, sir, do you not agree?”
    “Ah, yes. I suppose so … ”
    She bit the inside of her lip.
My father would be very displeased at my rudeness by putting the poor man on the spot like that.
She was about to apologize but decided against it when she detected a slight groan from the head of the table where the earl sat.
Let him salvage the dinner conversation now.
    “Lord Deerfoot, you must tell Miss Daysland all about the new race course being designed. She is quite the horse enthusiast and has the most amazing pony I have ever seen. He is her guide.” Despite her needling there was a definite ring of admiration in